


Between Demands and the Future

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Series: Zastario Tales [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some random scenes between <i>Demands of Life</i> and <i>Shaping the Future</i> that cover the time Flash is a sparkling/youngling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Demands and the Future

Optimus Prime leaned back in his chair and stared at the deep blue Seeker across from him as he attempted to process what had been said. Thundercracker simply waited with a patience crafted under Starscream and Megatron.

"You wish to begin an annual Rite of the Storm Flight again. Something that only involves Seekers." Prime finally repeated, just to be sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Yes," the Seeker canted his wings slightly.

"All right, tell this grounder what he needs to know about the rite to approve it," Optimus Prime settled in to listen and judge why he was even being asked.

Thundercracker paused at the wording, reading a clearance to omit as he pleased, but also as a test to see if he would.

"It is a time each vorn when the storms are at their strongest that every Seeker who can returns to Vos and takes to the sky. It is a time to prove yourself, that you were still worthy to be _Seeker_. A time to meet the new members of our kind, a time to seek out mates and found trines. It is a central moment in every Seeker's vorn. A binder in our society."

"How many do you expect to crash this vorn?" Prime asked quietly.

"None," Thundercracker said proudly. "There are no Seekers that I have not trained, none I have not led in battle. None will fall this vorn, or even soon."

"Any special plans for this one, being the first in so long?" Prime asked with a smile behind his mask.

"Yes," he drew in a deep vent and expelled it. "I intend to break every trine that is not fully bonded and throw the flight open for a Winglord challenge. It is possible that I will no longer lead when we return."

"By your own plans, you are comfortable with not being in charge once this has happened?" Optimus said, practically giving his approval but wanting to know more before he did so formally.

"No," Thundercracker flared his wings before settling them. "I have no intention of allowing the title to fall to a commoner. But I am without a full trine and the old laws of Vos are the only thing holding this mess we call peace together. If I don't allow a challenge and prove myself I'll face a revolt from half a dozen trines."

The Prime nodded, not entirely understanding what he was being told. Seeker tradition and kind had always been something of a law unto itself, allowed to remain that way unless it was in direct conflict with the greater good of Cybertron. Optimus had no plans to change that, given the not so subtle warning that Thundercracker had included in his reply.

"If you don't mind me asking, will you seek to complete your trine with this event?"

"That is the other thing I wished to speak to you about," Thundercracker shifted, distinctly uncomfortable and showing it. "The third member of my trine is the mech you are raising now."

"Flash?" Optimus's surprise was instant and clear, along with an instinctive protective shift in his field that warned Thundercracker to tread carefully. Dealing with Optimus the Prime was one thing. Dealing with Optimus the creator was another. After caring for Flash for almost five vorns Optimus's spark and coding considered the energetic sparkling as much his creation as if he and Elita had created him.

"He is an unbonded Zastario, as am I," The Seeker was very close to hyperventilating at the admission. "The future of our kind is more important than the frame he wears. I'll adapt. Our coding will ensure I find him desirable by the time we bond."

It took Optimus several clicks to process what had just been told, then extend his field in a soothing gesture. "You are Zastario." He repeated gently, focusing on that before he moved on to the implications it meant for his creation.

"Yes, Prime," Thundercracker's faint tremors subsided at the soothing field of _Prime_ , though it didn't calm him completely.

"That is no reason for you to fear any more." Optimus reminded him gently. "How many more unbonded Zastario are there?"

"A very long lifetime of deep code does not change quickly," Thundercracker said a bit stiffly. "Knowing I have nothing to fear from you and believing it to my spark are rather different things." He drew in a deep vent of air and let it go and simply motioned to himself. "We are rare enough, we have been rare enough for long enough that the first unbonded Zastario you encounter will be the one you end up bonding to unless there are _intense_ negative reactions early on. I know of your bonded pair, and there is myself. I've made a point to get close enough to every Decepticon and every prisoner to know that none were unbonded Zastario. The few bonded pairs I encountered are long gone."

"I understand." Optimus said quietly, more familiar with core coding conflicting with function than many were aware. "So your code has already fixated to some degree on my creation. You know that you will have to deal with his other creators as well. And that technically Jazz is his legal guardian."

"I understand," Thundercracker inclined his helm. "I speak of this primarily so you are prepared for it. He will have no more choice than I do. The choice is between accepting it and making this as easy for him as possible. For him to see me as a friend from early on and allow the romance to come as naturally as it will. Or you can poison him against me and make him view me negatively enough to rebuff the code."

Optimus softened a little. "I think it will be very hard to poison Flash against anyone. It rather goes against his nature."

"It can be done," Thundercracker said simply, insisting that the option existed. "Jazz knows hate. Flash could. I ... would rather he didn't. I intend to court him as if the code wasn't demanding it as well as I can. I will be a good mate and I will prove it."

"Have you spent much time watching Jazz with his creation?" Optimus asked, a fond smile coming through in tone.

"When they are in public," Thundercracker nodded, keenly aware of how mecha might differ between public and private. "I would say he adores Flash."

"Very much so. Even with the promise of being his legal guardian it was hard for him to leave him in my and Elita's care. It still is, every time he goes home to his mate." Optimus explained. "He has no desire for his creation to known things like hatred and fear. Not as Jazz knows them, as we all know them. Though it would be wise for you to declare your intentions to him soon as well, I believe. I can be present when you do, if you wish."

Thundercracker hesitated, not at all keen with the idea of facing the Special Operations mech that he and many others still had nightmares of. With this Prime you could be reasonably sure what you heard was what you would get. With Ops, especially after finding out what had happened to the mecha that had disappeared rather than been left deactivated, Jazz might smile and say all was good, only to visit you one night to express his true feelings.

"I would appreciate your presence," he eventually committed himself to telling Jazz what was coming.

"You will be safer with Jazz knowing what his coming, then approaching his creation later." Optimus suggested. "Let me know the time and location, and I will be there. Unless you would rather I arrange the meeting?"

"My schedule is more open than yours," Thundercracker deferred politely. "I will be there when I am told to arrive."

Optimus nodded. "How long would you like me to wait?"

Thundercracker paused, turning it over in his processors and deciding how long he wanted to prepare without being so long he'd drive himself completely crazy with it. He'd waited over five vorns to approach Prime. In part to make sure he really would be driven to this and wouldn't be able to wait for a Seeker to become a nest after Bluestreak. His coding had informed him in no uncertain terms that after as long as he'd been unmated, that no, it was not going to wait another however many centuries for a mech that may or may not come into existence.

"I would appreciate four orns to prepare my words," Thundercracker decided.

Optimus nodded in understanding. "I will arrange a time and place with Jazz when he drops Flash off later this orn. I will comm you with the arrangement tomorrow."

"Thank you, Prime," he canted his wings in respect and honest thanks before leaving.

* * *

Jazz didn't bother to hide his curiosity as he arrived at the Prime's private residence. It was a familiar place to the slender mech, a location he visited a minimum of every few orns to spend time with his only creation. Seeing Flash was not the reason he was here this time, and the details for the reason behind the visit had been rather sketchy when Optimus had spoken him to set it up.

All Jazz knew at the moment as he politely pinged for entrance was that is had something to do with Thundercracker and Flash, a connection that still did not make a lot of sense.

"Creator!" Flash's joyful greeting came ahead of Elita-1's chuckle. 

"He knows the sound of your engine, I swear." She smiled as the pair embraced, Flash happily chattering away about his morning.

Jazz dropped down to one knee so that he was on the sparkling's level, smiling and hugging the slender frame close to his spark. Even every few orns seemed a stretch to be away from the bright, lively young spark, and Jazz treasured every klik he had of this time. "Maybe he does." He teased with a smile before focusing most of his attention on the endless chatter, lessons and games and the rare turbo hawk that had crossed the sky outside Flash's window that morning.

"Come on, Flash, he has a meeting with Optimus and Thundercracker," Elita-1 finally interrupted the reunion by taking the sparkling's hand. "I'm sure he'll be able to see you before he leaves."

Jazz nuzzled Flash's helm before he released the sparkling, an act of affection he wasn't sure he was going to be allowed much longer, as the youngling obediently moved to Elita-1's side. "Where am I supposed to be?" He asked as he rose, visor winking in promise to his creation that he would see Flash before he left for the orn.

"The library," she smiled warmly, her field attempting to reassure him that nothing terrible was happening. "Optimus is there. Thundercracker is still a few kliks away."

"Right. I'll see you later." Jazz promised Flash as he moved off smoothly through the large apartment. The library, which also doubled as Optimus's personal home office and a temporary storage room, was a familiar destination for Jazz, and he walked in without hesitation. "Morning boss."

"Good morning Jazz," Optimus Prime rumbled warmly and motioned for him to help himself to energon, and a seat. "How are things at home?"

"Good." Jazz answered honestly, looking over the variety of energon that had been set out. It, and his bar, were nowhere near the levels he knew from pre-war vids, but it was getting better. A lot better. Between Sideswipe and Mixmaster quality high grade was being produced, and even some sweets. They both had apprentices they were training. One was even specializing in confections rather than brewing. It was already the best life Jazz had ever experienced and he could honestly say he saw it getting brighter.

He chose a smooth mid grade and poured a cube of it with the practiced flick that five vorns in the bartending business had given his natural grace. "Business is going well, and Prowl seems content with the way things are progressing. Flash greeted me as soon as I walked in the door. How is he doing?"

"Much the same as yesterday," Optimus didn't hide the smile or the sadness in his harmonics. "He is so very bright and curious, energetic and a true delight. I see the very best of you and Prowl in him. Your creation is the best symbol of hope I could have dreamed of. Everything that is good about our kind he simply radiates." He paused. "Do you believe Prowl might be ready to see him soon? I would love for you to be able to take him home sometimes and enjoy him for longer."

Jazz froze, energon half way to his lips as his visor dimmed in an internal battle, one that tugged at him spark-deep. It was several kliks and a soft vent later before he set the energon aside, untouched, and answered.

"Prowl could handle seeing him, I think. But as much as I would love to take him with me for a visit, a stay with me probably isn't the best thing for him. Prowl won't hurt him, but he's not going to do anything more than ignore him." Jazz wilted a tiny bit. "I don't want Flash hurt because Prowl doesn't look at him as a creation."

"Or even a being worthy of attention," Optimus nodded. "It is still a significant improvement over four vorns ago when Ratchet forbid me from even suggesting it."

"Maybe when he's closer to his mechling upgrades, or even after. When he can interact more on Prowl's level, and handle the rejection better, I'll try." Jazz said, finally taking a drink of energon and looking at his cube when he was done, wishing he dared something stronger.

"I know," Optimus's voice was low and gentle. "I only ask because it hurts to see you leave him when you don't want to so badly."

Any response Jazz had was put on pause by the door opening and Thundercracker walking in. He took one look at the pair as the door closed and focused on Prime. "I see the effort to get him in a good mood failed rather spectacularly."

"Very much so. You here to add to it?" Jazz asked, looking the Seeker over, his field drifting back towards neutral.

"Unfortunately not," Thundercracker said honestly as he moved to pour himself a much, much stronger brew than either grounder dared consume. Even for the Seeker it was a strong high grade. "Though I had some hope to find you in a good mood before we discussed your creation's sub-species, and mine."

"Sub-species." Jazz repeated, then sat up straight as all the pieces fell into place. "You're Zastario."

The Seeker actually flinched at the glyph, even without the harmonics and sub-glyphs marking it as feared, hunted, hated. "Yes."

Jazz's processor spun furiously as he considered that, looking at all of the implications from as many angles as he could, and his tension growing the longer he thought about it and the closer he got to a conclusion.

"What do you want with my creation?" Jazz demanded, his field still and neutral as he focused on the Seeker, suddenly very aware of why Prime was also present.

"To court him when he is a mechling," Thundercracker managed to hold both his wings and voice steady. "Knowing that unless he _hates_ me, our coding will give us little choice in the end."

"He's a grounder. The creation of former Autobots. Coding or not, can you accept _that_?" Jazz growled.

Thundercracker met the flashing visor levelly. "Yes. The changes have already begun. Zastario protocols can override and overwrite everything."

Jazz flinched. "And besides being a match for his coding, what do you have to offer him?"

"Balance, support and no demands he leave anyone from his past," Thundercracker offered what he knew he'd have when the sparkling was old enough.

"What sort of support?" Slowly, grudgingly, Jazz relaxed back in his seat. "And why Flash? There will be more, from the rumors I hear. Why not wait?"

"Emotional, physical, financial, political," Thundercracker rattled off the expectation he had for himself no matter who his mate was. "If I had any ability to wait, and I've _tried_ to convince the code to wait for a Seeker, I would. I've spent five vorns arguing with that code. I'm too old. I've been unmated for too long. It's having none of the wait and see if there is a better choice coming. Even at our height there were few of us and meeting an unbonded one was the chance of a lifetime that may well not come again. We are all coded to take advantage of it."

Jazz's spark was screaming in protest, his only real desire to protect his creation. A creation that he had known he was going to lose sooner or later, and far likely sooner simply because of his heritage. The creation Bluestreak was already slotted to have as soon as Red Alert and Inferno could breed again would have been his mate, but at least by the time that one was a mechling Flash would have been an adult for at least a century, and likely several.

"I'm a good mate," Thundercracker repeated into the silence. "I've had a lot of practice with the two I had to trine with."

"And are you still going to want that trine, even with my creation?" Jazz looked up, the comment catching his direct attention once more. The Seeker standing before him had some redeeming qualities. Jazz was willing to admit that.

He was far less willing to admit the same about some of the other Seekers he knew still functioned.

"Yes," Thundercracker answered, sure of it. "There is nothing about him yet to disrupt that part of what I am."

"And the third?" Jazz demanded, tone taking a dangerous edge.

"You object to Skywarp," Thundercracker regarded the aggressive creator he was privately terrified of, trying to keep everything about him neutral and steady.

"Self centered, cruel, impulsive glitch." Jazz rumbled aggressively.

"Jazz!" The sharp rebuke from his Prime seemed to make little impact on the tense mech facing Thundercracker.

"You left out his core feature," Thundercracker responded quietly. "He's several banks shy of a full processor. He's loyal though. Blindly loyal to his leader. It will make him dangerous to reject outright."

"So you think you can keep him under control, and protect Flash from him at the same time? Because if you can't, I'll fix the problem." Jazz promised, every inch of his frame the picture of willing intent to back his words.

"Skywarp has never, not once, acted against his trine. As much as he hated Starscream, he never pranked or attacked him. He never went after me either, even when I was at my most doubtful and driving him crazy with it," Thundercracker said firmly. "Simply being my mate would protect Flash. He may not be my trine next vorn. Who else do you object to?"

Jazz considered, his processor running through those Seekers he knew still functioned. "Ramjet. Dirge, Darkwing, Dreadwind. I'm sure you can figure out why." He added. "Any that will be a _danger_ to my creation."

"Or a bad influence to the point that it could be dangerous," he nodded.

"Thundercracker, since you are intended to break all unbonded trines, including your own, it seems," Optimus paused for the Seeker to twitch his wings in confirmation, "Will you be opening the Rite to former Autobots and neutrals?"

Thundercracker stared at him for a long moment. Not at the suggestion he should include Autobot Seekers, it never actually crossed his processors not to, but at the implication....

"You would have me take an Autobot for my trine," Thundercracker continued to stare at him with open-mouthed shock. His field, flickering and close enough to teek if they tried, told the story of political comprehension, and the shock of having not thought of it himself. He closed his optics briefly, organizing himself, and focused on Optimus. "Who would you suggest I consider, and why?"

Prime hummed and focused inward for a long moment. When he looked at them again, they could both feel the shift that was Prime drawing on the Matrix. "I would recommend Silverbolt or Skydive."

"Aerialbots," Thundercracker actually smiled slightly. "If they can get over the betrayal, I did rather like them." He paused, memories going to much more agreeable times for him. "We almost adopted them, you know." He looked at them again, fully in the present. "I will dissolve the command trine with the others. You will need to plant the idea in their processors. As long as I am the Winglord, it is unacceptable for me to directly court my trinemates. They must prove their worthiness to me and to the court. Which these orns is basically everyone. Skywarp will not take being replaced well and some will not be pleased with it being only kin, or so very young. They need to be ready for the challenges that I can not protect them from."

"How long can you operate without a full trine before your own turn on you?" Jazz asked, still trying to work out the depth of the tangle that was Seeker tradition and coding, the future impact that it was going to have on his creation, barring an apparent act of Primus himself.

"Since I am the only one left with any shred of noble coding and I've been in the Elite trine since the beginning, I have a significant amount of inertia on my side. Several centuries, likely longer. I don't really have any credible challengers yet," he chuckled darkly, then turned more serious. "The primary danger is not social, it's psychological," he admitted. "A Seeker without their trine becomes unbalanced. There's a reason we always fly in threes, even when a trine isn't bonded. We need it to remain balanced. As long as I have a second within a few vorns I'll be fine. My Zastario coding will ensure I have an opening in the trine for Flash."

"The Zastario coding...it will drive you to do everything necessary to keep Flash well and _happy_?" Jazz pushed, on the verge of giving it. When it came down to it, his hands were pretty much tied, and all he could do was secure promises that were in his creation's best interest.

After all, he had time. And just because he wasn't going to take extreme actions now didn't mean he couldn't later if he had to.

"The Zastario coding will do all it can to make both of us agreeable to the match," Thundercracker focused on him, sharp as a laser. " _My_ coding, _my_ standards, Seeker culture itself, will ensure I do all in my power to keep my trine happy, healthy and strong. I will do as much for my trine as you will do for your mate."

"And what if Flash does not wish to be trine? What will you do with him then?" Jazz wondered.

Thundercracker cycled a deep vent of air to settle himself. "Jazz, the code can make me, a noble Seeker, _desire_ a grounder. Being trine is a minor alteration. But to answer your question, he'd be my bonded lover, a paramour is likely the closest term you have, though it is not illicit for us. He is outside the trine, but still _mine_. It is a much less desirable status, though more suiting to a grounder among Seekers."

Jazz contemplated that in silence, his field smoothing as his processor worked, but some of the aggression drained away.

Optimus took advantage of the lull to interject a question of his own. "I know many options are in the works, but if the Aerialbots fly with you, what sort of challenges would they need to be aware of?"

"The first and foremost will be staying aloft during the Rite. If they manage that, they'll be accepted as hatchlings in status. Which, really, they are. Very young hatchlings at that," he grimaced at the realization of just how young the group was at not even six vorns. "There will be flight competitions, attempts to intimidate them by posturing and words, every fault will be put on display for me, trying to convince me that there are better choices. Their primary advantage is that all the mecha they're competing with are commoners and so indoctrinated into the wartime ways that the truly vicious politics don't happen anymore. Their idea of going too far is firing on them. I remember when it was so much worse."

"They will be warned then, and it is something that they will have to want to purse themselves." Optimus said, looking pointedly at Jazz.

After a klik the smaller grounder nodded, signaling his understanding and acceptance. Honestly, as much as he would prefer one or two of them being around to protect Flash, pushing them in that direction and having it go badly would be no better for his creation than Thundercracker having capable wingmates of his own choosing that the Seeker could be sure of controlling and knew would be acceptable in the political world they found themselves in now.

Thundercracker focused on Jazz. "I will have Flash in mind when I select my second." He shifted his gaze to Optimus. "My second also needs to be a carrier and caretaker type. He will be the third to a bonded pair of Zastario. He will be a nest often."

By this time Jazz was at least outwardly calm as he focused once more on Thundercracker. "Anything else?"

Thundercracker steadied himself. "I'll answer any other questions you have about the coding."

Jazz just shook his helm and went to help himself to more energon, reaching for something much stronger this time around. He could stay and play with Flash, maybe watch the Seeker with him, until he was safe to drive to his bar. Swerve could handle opening it. He had before, he would again.

Remembering his promise to his creation at the last second, Jazz only poured a small amount, tossing it back smoothly before looking at Optimus. "Anything else on your end Boss? If not I got a promise to keep before I head out."

"Perhaps you would introduce Thundercracker formally before you leave, see how they get along?" Prime suggested gently. "Flash knows who he is, but has never spent time with him."

"Only when he was around when I came by to talk to one of his creators," Thundercracker inclined his helm to Prime, though he included Elita-1 in the comment. "I would like that. You can watch us."

"Yeah. All right. A few kliks." Jazz said, nodding to Thundercracker. "Might as well start now, right?"

Without waiting for an answer he headed for the door, wanting to hold his creation and try to settle his processor before facing the outside world and pretending like everything was all right. He heard Thundercracker begin to talk to Prime and realized they were giving him some time for himself first, before sharing Flash with anyone. The door was barely closed before the small form came careening down the hall at him, a smiling Elita-1 walking more sedately behind.

"Brightspark." Jazz greeted him, sweeping the youngling up into his arms even if Flash was starting to get a little big for such attention. "Have you been waiting all this time?"

"Yes! You promised!" Flash exclaimed, snuggling into his creator's arms before pulling back a little and looking at Jazz squarely. "What's wrong? Creator upset."

The empathy of his little one, present since before Flash separated but still shocking to Jazz in its depth and accuracy, caught the mech off guard for only a nanoklik. "I just got done having a very serious talk, and I'm still thinking about it. I'll stop, and worry about it later. Right now I am here to see you." He said, nuzzling the sparkling and tickling his thin armor.

"Okay," Flash giggled. "Hide and seek?"

"I like that idea. Am I hiding or seeking the first time?" Jazz asked with a smile, allowing his creation to choose first this time.

"You hide!" Flash grinned eagerly as he turned to face the wall. "One. Two. Three...."

Jazz chuckled softly to himself, opening a comm line to Elita-1 as he moved off. ::Are there any places I need to avoid besides the normal ones?::

::None. Have fun.:: She smiled as he slipped by. It was an odd thing to Jazz, hiding, but with the intent to be found. He'd done it before, but not quite like this.

He glided through the apartment, quickly finding a place behind a piece of furniture where he would be completely out of sight, but well within the ability of his quick and active creation to hunt him down.

It was less than five kliks later when he heard the excited tread of his creation coming through the apartment, and right past his hiding place. Jazz didn't even bother making himself comfortable, and within the two kliks that he had predicted Flash was pouncing on him with a squeal of joy.

"You found me." Jazz admitted, wrestling carefully with Flash. "So you can choose again. Hide or seek?"

"You seek!" Flash squealed joyfully and darted off.

"He really adores it when you come over," Elita-1 all but purred. "I'm glad you wanted to be part of his existence. You can relate on a level we can't."

Jazz remained where he was kneeling on the floor to allow Flash time to hide and then some, knowing that his creation would change the location at least three times before settling on one. "I wish I could come more often." Jazz admitted, looking up at her. "Thank you both for letting me be a part of his functioning."

"We are pleased you are," she replied warmly. "I look forward to the orn that he's old enough to go to work with you if he wishes. He will enjoy the social atmosphere."

Jazz nodded in agreement. "He was so excited the one orn I took him to see the place, I think so too." He stood, the countdown had started internally ticking to a close.

"Good hunting," she chuckled and watched him play-hunt, working hard to not be as good as he really was. It was enjoyable to watch them trade roles, the easy way that Flash liked both sides of it. She regretted spotting Thundercracker and Optimus enter the living room and the knowledge that no matter where he was in the home Jazz had heard them moving.

Her knowledge was confirmed when Jazz entered the living room, Flash in his arms, to face the two large mechs. He settled the youngling on the floor, turning him to face the large Seeker gently.

"Flash, this is Thundercracker. He would like to be your friend." Jazz explained, careful to keep his tone and field cheerful and friendly, despite his personal feelings on the matter.

Flash trilled and smiled up at the large mech who knelt down to be closer to Flash's level.

"Hello, Flash." Thundercracker offered his hand.

"Hello." Flash answered politely as he had been taught, though his attention was clearly focused on the large wings flaring out on either side of the Seeker's frame. "Pretty wings."

Thundercracker smiled and flexed them, showing off that they moved far more than most expected when the locks were fully released. "Thank you. Perhaps your creators will allow me to take you flying one orn, if it appeals to you."

Flash chirped with delight at the idea, bright optics looking up at Thundercracker. "Are you fast? I like going fast!"

"I've very fast," Thundercracker trilled. "I think you like going fast. I know your creator Jazz does."

"Fast in the sky!" Flash chirped, his imagination clearly captivated with the idea as he bounced in place, eager. "Faster than a turbohawk?"

"Much, much faster," Thundercracker chuckled with a warm smile. "I'm faster than sound. But I will not take you flying until all three of your creators agree. I don't want to be banished from seeing you again."

"Wouldn't do that?" Flash said, looking up at the three mecha gathered around watching, Jazz even having managed to make himself back away a few steps.

"Not if you like it, Brightspark." Jazz said quietly, optics focused on his creation. "We'll talk about it later." He added.

Flash squeaked with excitement and promptly began quizzing Thundercracker, demanding to know what else the Seeker could do in the air and most of the comparisons coming back to the turbohawk that he had seen in the sky. The Seeker seemed happy to comply, answering, sometimes even telling snippets of stories.

In the end though, still respectful of Jazz, Thundercracker gave Flash a sad smile. "I need to go now. I'll come back later," he promised.

"Okay. Thank you." Flash's smile was bright as his field danced warmly over the Seeker's, eager and welcoming.

"Over here, Flash." Jazz's soft voice caught and directed his creation's attention, the grounder nodding in grudging acceptance at Thundercracker after the youngling was back in his arms. The Seeker left with nods of thanks to the three adults and Optimus and Elita-1 found other things to do so Jazz and Flash could enjoy each klik of their time together undistracted.

* * *

The scene before his optics was one that Jazz hadn't been sure he would ever witness again in this functioning. A simple street fair, by the old standards, but so much more in this new time and age. Vendors were spaced along the main track leading into Iacon's major park, brightly colored booths meant to attract the attention of mecha shopping, socializing, and just in general having a good time.

Events like these were still meant more to function as social bonding times, steps into normality and the future, more than anything else.

And Jazz had plans to enjoy this one, and the entire evening, as he looped his arm through his mate's and leaned over to kiss the side of Prowl's helm chastely. "Thank you for leaving work early."

"It is my pleasure to be able to," Prowl smiled, just a little, and leaned into Jazz's presence. "We have worked long and hard for this right."

Jazz purred in agreement as they started off slowly down the way, his field twined deeply with his mate's and full of attention and affection as his optics swept around, taking in everything. It was an amazing sight of what was on offer. From crafters and artists offering what they could create, from practical to artistic to entertaining, to scavengers selling finds from outside city limits to performers trying to earn credits for their acts. In an odd quirk that no one had seen coming, Prowl never, not once, failed to drop a few credits in their collection cube. It was always enough for an orn's energon for the group. If he _liked_ the performance, he'd give more.

What Prowl lacked in expressed emotions in public he displayed in other ways. As a senior Autobot officer and high ranking member of the government this freedom with his credits was a welcome, important thing for the city's morale. It was a display, quiet in the way of one who felt no need to make a point, that Prowl felt confident that his paycheck would continue, his energon would continue, and thus he had no need to hoard it. Very, very few knew that many of the credits he gave were technically not his own, but a public way for the government to pay the performers that brought culture and brightness to their lives. It encouraged the arts and culture that both Optimus and Prowl valued so much, so Prowl took the funds Optimus gave him, did not ask where they came from, added some of his own and went out to ensure that the entertainment had their energon.

What only Jazz knew, was that this made Prowl feel _good_. It made Jazz feel good that his mate felt good, that Prowl was happy to do this, and it echoed through Jazz's field into his mate as they stopped and watched a troop of singers.

As they watched them perform Jazz leaned into to whisper to his mate. "I might have to remember this group, and see if I can get them to come in every so often to perform. I've thought about adding some live performance every now and then."

"I'm sure it would draw in an even larger crowd, and given them good exposure," Prowl agreed with a soft hum. "An all-win situation we need to encourage."

Jazz threw in a few of his own credits, and a business chip into their cube as well. It offered the performers a free drink for each member. Now he would just wait to see if they came by. As they walked he felt his mate perk up sharply, though there wasn't a trace of it in his frame and carefully traced his mate's attention despite the way that Prowl concealed his interest. It was three stalls down. A scavenger's stall. All sorts of things came in from outside the city limits, found by mecha who made a living hunting for bits of culture to sell to those who earned more. Most were former neutrals, mecha who were universally looked down on by both sides who'd fought, but some were former scouts that couldn't settle down.

What he couldn't tell was what had caught his mate's attention. There was nothing obvious to him, and the stall contained the typical mix of junk and treasures. Instead of asking Jazz simply walked with his mate in that direction, casual interest in his field as he nodded to the mecha behind the booth. He knew Prowl well enough to pick out the target, a fairly well preserved hard form game of Sovereign, but he had no doubt that the booth's owner was clueless as the scavenger chatted them up about how things were going in general and whatever object Prowl or Jazz seemed to be looking at.

Beyond being normal behavior for a booth owner, Prowl was far too important in the government not to be recognized, and with that recognition came a basic knowledge of his income level and spending habits. Prowl rarely bought _things_ , but when he did they were either consumables, classical Praxian style art, or _old_ even by Golden Age standards.

That still left a solid score of items he might buy, and much higher odds he was simply browsing and getting a feel for the finds and the seller.

Jazz allowed himself to add to the illusion, picking up this and that, and actually finding an old decorative formed grate that he set aside to purchase. It was an interesting piece, of a style that had been common in the lower levels where Jazz was from but a design that he had never seen before.

Prowl was busy quizzing the mech on where various things had come from, and Jazz caught his comm to Mirage with an image attachment of a noble's sword in good condition. Mirage's reply was quick, thanking Prowl for his thoughtfulness but the weapon had not belonged to anyone he cared about. When all the haggling was done, they walked away with the game set, the grate and music files of several hymns recorded in the late Golden Age.

"Home, or should I integrate it into the bar?" Jazz asked, referring to the grate as he took Prowl's arm once more. Jazz liked the piece. The flaring twists of the bars on the work gave it an appearance of almost being in motion, and whatever it had survived had given it a patina of age and character that would look good either place. The deciding factor would be if Prowl wished to look at it every orn in their private residence.

"I think it would look very good over the door pad at the bar," Prowl said easily, though he was perfectly willing to find a place in their home for it.

"It would." Jazz agreed. "Especially if I can find the right back-lighting for it. Bar it is then."

Decision made he leaned over to kiss his mate. "Pleased with your own finds?"

"Very pleased," Prowl purred. "Sovereign was the way I was taught to socialize. A hard form board like this one. A great many good memories contain a board like it. A great many frustrating ones as well. It all made me a better Enforcer."

Jazz nodded quietly. "Maybe you can teach me to play, though I doubt I will be little challenge for you."

"The game was never meant to challenge me," Prowl said with a soft smile. "It was chosen because it gave me something I could relate to that my fellow officers also understood. I would enjoy playing with you simply to spend time with you."

It was Jazz's turn to purr with pleasure as they continued to wander down the road to the park. Spread throughout the park were mecha socializing simply enjoying the nice orn.

Music started, catching the pair's attention, and Jazz realized that one of the professional groups had actually arranged to make an evening appearance. Even better, it was a group that played the softer, more rhythmic music that Prowl enjoyed the most. "Shall we watch, love?"

"I would enjoy that," he gave a slightly warmer smile and leaned against Jazz when they sat down clear section of ground. "It is good to be free."

Jazz nuzzled his mate affectionately before settling down behind Prowl, leaning against his mate's back and field radiating blissful contentment. "It's what we worked for. What so many gave their sparks for." He murmured as he enjoyed the music and his mate. "And the brightest part is that you are now free to choose me, if you wish."

"I have long chosen you," Prowl leaned back against his lover, pressing them together and allowed his field to express his affection and devotion. "You are _mine_ , Jazz."

"Yours. Mine." Jazz answered as he sank into the contact. The mech he had pursued, looking deeper than many were willing to and see the special spark that burned under the cold and controlled exterior formed by the formidable processor the spark powered.

"Always yours, from the moment you accepted me." Jazz emphasized, his hands wandering in slow circles over Prowl's frame, the magnets in his hands on their lowest setting. It was all it took to draw an audible groan of pleasure from Prowl these orns. Even out here, in public with relative strangers, Prowl was willing to accept being a _mech_ , and a mech expressed pleasure at his mate's attentions.

Jazz's engines settled into a steady purr of contentment and his own pleasure as he snuggled against his mate, enjoying the music and savoring the moment that was so very close to perfect. Like all moments, it came to an end eventually, though not before Prowl was practically a melted puddle of relaxed mech in Jazz's hands.

Jazz sighed, content to sit there and hold his mate close as the musicians took their bows and started to pack up. Only once the crowd had really started to clear out did he speak again. "Ready to head home, love?"

"Yes," Prowl tipped his helm for a rare public kiss. "I can feed you, and we will enjoy our berth," he purred seductively.

The kiss was given willingly, gentle and chaste enough for public, but full of all the passion in Jazz's spark for the mech in his arms.

"And then I can polish your frame to a shine, enough to make everyone at work tomorrow envy you." Jazz murmured in return. Even after all these vorns he had yet to lose the awe he felt at the privilege of being able to touch and hold Prowl.

"They already envy me for my mate," Prowl trilled, low and seductively as they reluctantly stood. "More than a few wanted you, but you chose me," he tipped Jazz chin up for another kiss.

"Most of them weren't worth it." Jazz said, smiling a little. "They wanted the illusion, not the mech underneath that you accepted."

"It helped that my basic function is geared towards seeing through illusions. They hold no appeal for me," Prowl shifted so Jazz was tucked against his side, shoulder to shoulder as they walked from the park and towards their home. "You wanted me enough to make me want you. It still amazes me that you saw anything worth having in the mech I was when we met."

"I saw a very bright spark that hadn't been given a chance to _live_ , and hoped it would take a chance on me." Jazz said, helm resting lightly on Prowl's shoulder as they walked.

His mate. A mecha that he once only hoped would give him a chance to be a friend. Then the desire for so much more once he had been given a rare glimpse of the mech Prowl could be when one was willing to treat him right, rewarded now.

"It did, and it thanks you every orn for fighting for it," Prowl whispered, the emotions a tense bundle inside him. Though he'd come to understand that what he felt towards Jazz was a good thing, it was still uncomfortable to experience at this intensely. "As do I, even when you were driving me crazy."

Jazz chuckled and kissed the side of Prowl's helm as they entered their apartment complex. "But you're so cute when you're like that- exasperated but not angry with me." And Prowl in that state had given him so many perfect openings to calm and soothe his mate, to express his care for Prowl.

"You occasionally have a very strange definition for things," Prowl huffed, but there was affection in his field. "Cute is not a glyph that anyone normal would associate with a Praxian Enforcer or the Autobot this one became."

"Beautiful, handsome, amazing, commanding..." Jazz sing-songed. "Cute did come a little later, after I figured out how to make you react like that. When you were pleased or good surprised, and not wanting to admit it." He teased.

"It was vorns before I _could_ admit it. I did not understand what I was experiencing right away," Prowl countered, then paused in the empty hallway and gently pushed Jazz against the wall, claiming a kiss that was anything but chaste and bordering on publicly impolite when combined with the roaming of Prowl's hands. "So you think 'commanding' is an attractive trait?" he rumbled, low and hot.

"The way you do it, where your optics light up and your wings get that set to them...you radiate it love. It looks so good on you." Jazz purred, pride and desire flaring through his field for Prowl to teek and get a sense of just what it did to Jazz.

"Then I will endeavor to be more commanding for you," Prowl purred as he nipped along Jazz's jaw to his throat cabling. "At least some orns."

Jazz moaned in pleasure, frame shivering against his mate's in bliss at the attention and the promise of that exquisite _commander_ coming to their berth on occasion.

"Perhaps, tonight, I will frag you senseless before you polish me and we overload gently," Prowl suggested as he pulled away, drawing his mate along with him. "Do you enjoy it aggressive?" the question was very real, a careful check that logic routines hadn't reached the wrong conclusion with a mech that so often defied Prowl's logic.

"With you?" Jazz sighed happily. "I would love it. Own me. Possess me. Mark me as yours."

"So long as you mark me as well," Prowl murmured as the door to their apartment opened. With a smooth motion of the battle trained and tested, he pushed Jazz against the wall by the door and pinned him there with his frame, mouth on mouth and hands rubbing and teasing everywhere.

His mate writhed in his arms, frame trying to press into every touch as his glossa moved into play, challenging Prowl's.

"Mine," Prowl rumbled, rubbing his frame along his mate's. "Tell me, what would make you _burn_ right now."

"Orders. Whatever you want me to do. Will obey you. _Want_ to obey you." Jazz moaned as he offered complete control to his mate. "Chase if I try to escape, keep me as yours. _Want_ me."

Something ancient and long forgotten roared to life inside Prowl, but he pushed it away for the moment. "I will chase you and claim you, but not today." His hand cupped over Jazz's interface panels, both of them. "Open. Do not touch me except to hold on."

Both panels snapped open on command, heat washing over Prowl's hand as Jazz's hands reached up to settle on Prowl's shoulders and his helm fell back with another eager moan. "Yes sir."

A shiver passed down Prowl's frame at the words, spoken with such adoration and desire. He focused on giving pleasure without submission, determined to make it work. He pressed his fingers into his lover's valve, teasing, stretching and coaxing sensation from it as his palm rubbed against the spike housing, urging the length to extend and pressurize. "Do not hold your vocalizer."

"Prowl." Jazz howled in response, hips bucking into the touch as his spike started to pressurize. His entire field spoke of wanting his mate, desiring the mech holding him.

A small part of him had dreamed of this for vorns, a fantasy that had played through his processor a million times since he caught his first glimpse of Prowl in the officers meeting so long ago. Each time the replay was slightly different, but with the same theme- that air of total control and power directed at him, but with that passionate spark that he had been able to see even then fueling it shining through.

Prowl extended his spike, rubbing against Jazz's as they pressurized. His fingers continued to tease the slick, hot valve. "So ready, just for me," he purred, his field lapping back at Jazz's with arousal and desire.

"Yours." Jazz moaned. "Belong to you. Captured my spark without trying, and held it for so long. Would do anything for you."

It was the truth. Jazz would do anything for the good of his mate. Kill, maim, steal and lie without hesitation. He would give anything for Prowl's happiness.

"Be mine. Be happy," Prowl rumbled, the tone at odds with the words and intent as he withdrew his fingers and grabbed Jazz's hips to lift him up. Braced against the wall and his mate, Jazz _howled_ as he was spread open by the spike he fantasized about and a taking he never actually expected to happen.

Strong hands dug into Prowl's shoulders as Jazz keened in pleasure, valve cycling tight around the sudden intruder. "So happy to be yours." Jazz groaned once Prowl was fully seated, fans already working at furious pace to dispel the building heat in his frame.

This was a form of perfect he had only every hoped for, and in the moment his processor was only fixated on two things. All of the blaze of emotion he felt for his mate, and "More." He pleaded.

Prowl rumbled and made sure his grip was solidly pinning Jazz to the wall before drawing back and slamming forward, the tip of his spike driving into the thick cluster of sensors at the top of the valve. "All you can take," he promised with a grunt as he pulled and thrust in again.

"Yes. Tell me what to do. Order me." Jazz pleaded as raw pleasure washed through his frame with each thrust, feeding back to Prowl through deeply twined fields.

"Keep talking," Prowl rumbled through his grunts and thrusts. "Tell me how good it is. How much you want this."

"Want this. Want you." Jazz keened, his field teeking with _truth_ to back the words. "Love you. Love all of you. Love you like this. So amazing. Mine. So good. So very good to me."

By the end Jazz was babbling, obedient but almost blinded by the sensations "Prowl-"

"Overload with me," Prowl finally ordered only a few thrusts before he roared and pumped hot, crackling transfluid deep into his lover.

"Sir!" Jazz gasped, just barely processing the order before Prowl overloaded.

"Prowl-" Jazz cried again, his mate's designation ending in burst of starting as his helm fell back, mouth open and visor blinded with the energy rushing through him, locking his frame against his mate's.

He went limp in his mate's arms when the energy finally released him, level field evidence of the soft reboot his processor had been forced into. By the time he was coherent he was snuggled against Prowl's warm frame and on the berth, both of their fields content from the pleasure of a shared overload.

"I'll have to do that more often," Prowl murmured against Jazz's sensor horn.

"Yes sir." Jazz agreed with a smile, lifting his helm to claim a somewhat rather uncoordinated kiss. He shifted, frame trying to snuggle even closer to Prowl's. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, love," Prowl held him, warm and content. "I'll learn how to do this. It did feel good."

"Only when you want to." Jazz said, content himself to just lay there in his mate's arms. Eventually the desire to finish their anniversary ritual roused him to nuzzle his mate. "Ready to be polished?"

"Yes," Prowl's field flickered with warmth at the pleasure that Jazz's efforts on his finish always brought.

Jazz leaned in to kiss Prowl tenderly before extracting himself from his mate's arms and fetching the polishing kit from nearby.

A neat flick of his hand opened the case, exposing a far wider range of polishes and tools than had ever existed back on Earth. With a smile he located the particular kind of polish formulated for his mate's armor, a thick blend that he had to work into the plating and designed to smooth out and strengthen the area it was applied to too.

"Stretch out for me, love." He requested, turning to kneel on one side of the berth. "Armor first, and then I will get the kind for your wings and sensor areas."

Prowl quivered, just a fraction, and splayed himself in a smooth motion. It had taken a while for Jazz to realize that Prowl's self-preservation protocols were as finely tuned to his posture as any warrior's was, but ever since that moment he had cherished this all the more. He knew what it would take for him to lay out like this and it makes him appreciate the level of trust he had to earn for Prowl to do so all the more. It warmed his spark, all these displays of trust that most would never think anything of. It meant as much as, if not more than, the displays of affection he had always craved.

With a slow purr of approval Jazz leaned over his mate, spreading the polish on with the thick applicator and rubbing it in small circles over an arm plate, the motion continuous and smooth until it had all been worked in.

The warmth that started to seep into Prowl's field, the very gradual relaxing of the underlying tension that was a constant component of his mate. With a smile he moved on to another section. "I love how you feel when you let me do this. And how you look afterward, so relaxed. And your frame, so perfect. Just like the spark underneath."

"Feels good when you do it," Prowl murmured, content to allow Jazz to do as he pleased and relax into the languid state that all that effort brought. He never thought much about why this was so enjoyable and he quietly flaunted the results while he found the professional salons to be an unpleasant waste at best. He simply accepted that this was part of what made Jazz special. He could make so many things that normally irritated Prowl into pleasures that were eagerly looked forward to.

"I'm glad." Jazz said. "When you let me do this, mark you as mine, it feels so good." And to Jazz it was a mark of possession. An act of caring and intimacy that he knew only he was allowed, and that he selfishly treasured in his spark.

Prowl murmured as his armor shifted, flaring just a bit under Jazz's hands, opening up to expose edges and even the internals it protected. This time with Jazz was a singular moment for him whether it lasted a breem or an orn. When he was under Jazz's hands he had no awareness of his chronometer or care about the work that was to be done. It was an amazing sensation that he occasionally associated with the Well of All Sparks. Peace, pleasure, a lack of demands. It was everything that he had been created to never know, and here it was while he was still in his frame.

"Like to be marked as yours," Prowl murmured as he continued to relax.

Jazz purred, content in his own way as he continued to work on his mate, paying special attention to every inch of exposed armor, fingers occasionally wandering to message the protoform underneath when he had the chance as well.

Finally finished with the main part of Prowl's frame he twisted, reaching for another polish and a different applicator. "Let me do your wings?" He asked softly, the same request he always made, and his favorite part of the entire routine. The way Prowl melted and purred went all the way to Jazz's spark in way that he still couldn't explain and didn't really care.

"Always," Prowl moaned in anticipation. He rolled over carefully, aware of his doorwing and his extended armor as he settled onto his front once more. "Better than any overload."

"Oh lover." Jazz sighed, fingers tracing lightly over the broad sensor wing before he picked up the polish and started in, humming softly in time with the strokes. The peaceful pleasure rolling off Prowl was addicting in the most delightful way. Physical pleasure mixed with emotional safety twined around a deep sense of belonging. It felt exquisite to be the cause of that and enveloped in it. It was a sort of mutual bliss that continued and grew as Jazz worked carefully over each door wing, giving each equal and detailed attention, shivering slightly at the sensation of his lover's pleasure in something so simple.

The low, slow, gentle overloads this form of pleasure drew from Prowl were different from every other pleasure Jazz knew and even after so many vorns it still enchanted him to watch his mate shiver, moan and then relax even further until he was a truly sedate lump on the berth, purring with contentment.

Hands rubbed gently over Prowl's back and wings when Jazz was done polishing him, wandering slowly over Prowl's shoulders as he draped his frame over his mate. "So lovely. And mine. And when you're ready I'll pleasure you even more. The way you like, slow and gentle."

Prowl could only moan softly in anticipation, his field radiating the utter, absolute contentment that still felt strange when he thought back on it. In the moment, he was too relaxed and felt far too good to think. The warmth of his mate, the visible shine of his plating, the warm tingle of several gentle overloads and the knowledge that he had nowhere to be and nothing to do for many more joors all combined to relax him into a state where his processors largely shut down for recharge but his frame remained at least somewhat active.

"Love you." Jazz purred as he nuzzled and kissed his mate, hand rubbing slowly down Prowl's frame, over his wings and towards his valve cover. "Playing with your wings with my spike in your valve, the way you ripple and moan for me, and the best feeling for me is how good you feel."

Arousal flared in Prowl's field at the seductive words and he moaned with a slightly different tone and spread his legs, his valve cover sliding open, inviting and so very eager.

Jazz's hand slipped down between their frames, fingers teasing around the slick valve plates and dipping just into his mate's valve. "So slick for me. You feel so good around my spike, so tight and perfect."

Another moan from Prowl prompted Jazz's spike cover to retract, spike pressurizing to tease against the valve entrance. "Love the sounds of your pleasure. Will you give them to me?"

"Always," Prowl moaned deeply, shifting under his lover to offer himself more fully and brought his doorwings up for attention. "You always feel so good in me."

"Prowl." Jazz purred, his mate's designation rolling off his glossa as Jazz sank slowly into his a mate's valve, savoring the unique feel that was Prowl and their pleasure. This time was special, a constant in their relationship no matter what had been thrown at them.

He paused when he was fully seated and soaked in the pleasure of feeling his mate ripple and squeeze around him. "I love you." He whispered, meaning every word as he started to grind against his mate, sending small ripples of pleasure through them both.

"Yes," Prowl arched into the pleasure, the grinding and the fullness. "Love you. Jazz, oh yes, I love you."

"My perfect mate." Jazz whispered into Prowl's audio, shifting to drive a little deeper into his mate, rubbing their frames together as hands started to run over smooth sensor wings. The slow building of charge between them, the gentle ripples that rebounded and built in their frames.

It was an art that Jazz had discovered and perfected for Prowl, a dance with a predetermined conclusion, sated mates content in each others arms. It was also a long and difficult one that Jazz had decided was well worth it. Prowl would get off and sated with the faster buildup that Jazz enjoyed most, but it wasn't until the orn that Prowl had all but pinned Jazz down and ridden him to the slow, easy buildup breems in the making that he'd grasped the difference between interfacing and making love.

To make love to Prowl was quite possibly the most enjoyable thing in Jazz's existence, in no small part because it wasn't intrinsically obvious to him. There was so little that he didn't perceive quickly and easily -- that was what kept him alive after all -- that it was a processor blowing event to have to be _taught_ a skill and why he should put the effort into _learning_ when so much of his life simply happened.

Since then Jazz had enjoyed learning, then perfecting and indulging in this act of making love when he could.

In exchange Prowl gave him what he adored; Prowl's voice, full of pleasure and praise.

The soft sounds of building pleasure, the smaller sharper ones when Jazz shifted just enough to hit a spot just right, the moans when Jazz added the magnets in his hands on the lowest setting to wander over Prowl's frame.

Each sensation earned him a unique sound, a slightly different flavor of pleasure from his mate, and Jazz had learned them all over their vorns together. How to earn each one, how to build them in a way that brought Prowl to bliss and left him strutless and sated when Jazz was done.

An amazing, complex mecha that Jazz never tired of, could never grow bored with, and honestly loved with his very spark.

When Prowl finally overloaded with a long, low, resonant moan the charge had built so high it crackled between them, creating an aura of dancing lights and flares of bliss that rolled between them in an endless loop until they sank to the berth, shivering in aftershocks and content not to move until long after their armor cooled.

This time it was Prowl who nudged Jazz to shift so he could roll over. There was a soft moan of protest, Jazz quite comfortable where he was, but after moment he pulled out of his mate and shifted to the side so that he could settle into his mate's front instead after Prowl rolled over. The kiss was long, language and passionate while Prowl's hands were just barely not stroking to entice.

"So perfect." Jazz murmured before claiming another kiss, not in any hurry to rush things. They had done this so many times it was almost a dance between them, familiar in form and results. "I love you. And I am yours. My desire, my frame, my spark." He lifted himself up to straddle Prowl's hips and unlocked his chest plates to slide them apart. He felt something different in Prowl as the light spilled out to make Prowl's white plating glow.

"I am yours as well, my love," Prowl whispered and reached up to touch the crystal protecting his mate's very life force with reverence.

A shiver ran through Jazz's frame at his mate's touch, his field flaring out in bliss as he steadied himself on Prowl's frame. It was always so wonderful when his mate indulged him like this, touching his spark and telling Jazz how much he was wanted.

Nervous energy flickered through Prowl's field after a klik and he lowered his hand. Armor locks disengaged and his chest plates parted slowly.

"Love..." Jazz whispered, his awe shining through at the sight of his mate's spark, hands kept carefully to himself.

"You ... may touch," Prowl said, voice steady despite the unease in his field.

"My love." Jazz repeated, his voice full of gentle reverence as he lifted one hand, keeping it carefully in Prowl's sight.

Gentle fingers reached out to trace around the edge of Prowl's chest armor before dipping in to brush the lightest feather touches over the crystal case.

Prowl moaned and arched into the touch, his frame moving, though his spark case itself held perfectly still against Jazz's fingers.

"So beautiful." Jazz whispered, optics locked on the ice blue light of his mate's very life force, fingers stroking along the crystal gently.

It was this that his spark longed for, to feel and to touch his mate. The trust that he had spent centuries working for, concentrated into this moment. "So strong and perfect."

He could feel the denial in Prowl's field, the remnants of a conversation they'd had so many times that pit Prowl's sense of independent worth against Jazz's love and belief in him and condensed it into a single moment of trust.

The casing spiraled open while Prowl's optics locked onto his lover's visor.

"Love?" Jazz asked softly, his fingers still playing along the outside of the case.

"T-touch?" Prowl managed to verbalize the offer.

Slowly Jazz's fingers slipped closer before gently dipping into the edge of the blazing energy, quivering as the energy wrapped around his fingers and skittered across his palm. "Oh love..."

Prowl groaned deeply, pleasure rippling through his entire awareness. The trust he had for Jazz warred with the truth of what his singular experience with anyone touching his spark meant until raw anger-fueled frustration tore his thoughts apart.

"Yours." He tried to impart all that meant in the single glyph.

"Thank you, my love. Such a perfect gift. A perfect mate." Jazz murmured, continuing to play lightly with his mate's spark, reveling in the pleasure he was creating and the gradual, almost painfully slow way Prowl relaxed as the charge in his frame built.

"Thank you for this." Jazz said softly, continuing to voice the awe and reverence in his field. His frame shivered as another tendril wrapped around his wrist, fingers sinking just a little deeper.

The life and the energy that he could physically _feel_ , that he had only been allowed to look at before, made his spark quiver. The touch ignited a hope that one orn his spark would be able to touch this one. With a smile he focused on the moment, the bliss of now as his mate slowly relaxed into the sharing and Jazz's joy.

"J-Jazz," Prowl moaned and gripped his lover's hips as his pleasure crept higher, the tingling crackle along his circuits he recognized as an overload building, but one that was very different from the sensation from his spike or valve centric ones, or even the boarder ones from his wings. Intense, condensed, rippling outward with every pulse of his spark.

"It's all right love." Jazz purred, leaning down to kiss his mate as his fingers continued to play, moaning himself as his spark pressed against the protective case in an effort to reach the brilliant light it wanted so badly.

"I am here." Jazz reminded him. "Here for you, for your pleasure, for us."

Prowl shuddered, his optics bright as he moaned, trembling and right on the edge for a torturously long klik until his frame gave out and keened with the ecstasy of his first voluntary spark overload.

"So beautiful." Jazz moaned, a smaller overload rippling through his own frame from the energy that his mate's spark released.

There was a different brilliance to this, a level of warmth that was as much trust as pleasure. Trust Jazz had earned and built upon for thousands of vorns and had now extended to touching the very essence of his love.

As Prowl dragged himself to a hazy awareness, fear gripped him with the flashback to the haziness of his first spark overload only to fade as he placed the field against his as Jazz's. Jazz was to be trusted, Jazz _could_ be trusted, and that was enough to make Prowl sink into the pleasurable afterglow under his mate.

Slowly Jazz sank down on top of his mate after Prowl's chest plates slid closed once more. His spark ached to touch his mate's, but that desired was buried beneath the wonder and awe of gift he had just been given.

He tilted his helm to kiss Prowl, the intimate gesture full of love and affection that he was warmed further at having returned with just as much desire and affection. 

Prowl's hands slid along Jazz's back, enjoying the slow fade of pleasure as they continued to kiss. Eventually his mouth broke from Jazz's to find his mate's neck. "You're sure you're from Vector Sigma?"

"Sparked the same place as you love." Jazz promised, field wrapping around Prowl in love and assurance. He felt and teeked as Prowl struggled, then made up his mind.

"Merge with me."

Shock rippled through Jazz, joy and hope and hesitation. "Are you sure?"

"As I will ever be," Prowl nodded against his lover's throat and unlocked his chest plates once more. "I don't want to allow _them_ to control _us_ anymore."

"They don't love." Jazz whispered, small kisses peppering Prowl's helm as his own chest plates mirrored the motion of his mate's. "You own yourself, and me."

"I've given myself to you," Prowl moaned, catching Jazz's mouth in a kiss that quickly deepened as their frames aliened, the act of merging sparks as much automatic to avoid damage as it was voluntary.

"Thank you." Jazz whispered. His spark surging forward, the crystal spiraling open a tiny bit before Jazz caught himself, forcing the process to slow despite how much he wanted. He had exactly one chance to be Prowl's first _lover_ to merge with him, and it was not a process to hurry. Especially not with a mech who was as tense as Prowl was. It was easing, slowly, with every tingle of pleasure that teeked back to Jazz, but he was still almost petrified.

"Your pace love." Jazz whispered, field soothing and full of desire, love, and most of all _calm_. "I am yours, to claim whenever you wish. Your desire, you want this."

Prowl nodded with a shiver and deep groan as the first tendril connected and he _felt_ what he'd always teeked. Just a hint, but there was no mistaking the spark reaching out for his as anyone but Jazz, the mech he trusted and desired enough to break his own compliance coding for. He ran his hands along Jazz's sides, then up to embrace him and guide him down. With as little as he knew, Prowl relied completely on the default files to tell him how to move and how fast to go.

Jazz sank slowly down into the merge, savoring each additional leader that connected, feeling the connection to his mate that he had craved for so very long, trying to balance desire, his care for Prowl, and coding.

Tonight was _not_ the time to initiate a bond.

Tonight was not the night to do anything more than accept what he was given, try to express how giddily grateful he was for it and ensure that Prowl wasn't traumatized. The last part was the most important. He had to protect Prowl.

Prowl had no such thoughts. He's already given up control to his spark and protocols and was along for the ride, watching, feeling, enjoying, and very aware of _Jazz_ at every moment.

~Love.~ Jazz purred in delight, quivering all over and simply letting emotion swirl through the connection. There was his joy at touching his mate's spark. All of the longing and desire he felt for Prowl. The protective, possessive feelings that Jazz had for his mate, and the drive to care for Prowl that ran as deep as Jazz's spark. All for Prowl to see and feel.

~J-Jazz?~ Prowl's awareness locked onto the recognizable word-glyph in the tumble of shared emotions with surprise.

~Yes love.~ Jazz purred, spark rubbing around against Prowl's in deep affection. ~Love you.~

~We can communicate ... with glyphs?~ he poked at this novel concept despite the pleasure threatening to wash him away.

~We can. Among other things.~ Jazz replied, gentle affection flowing across the bond as Jazz focused on his mate.

Prowl hummed, then moaned. ~Such as?~

Gentle affection flowed across the bond. Slowly it transitioned into the deep love Jazz felt for his mate. The desire Jazz felt for him. The joy once more that Jazz felt at being this close to his mate. ~True feelings.~

This time Prowl did arch under his lover with a throaty moan that had nothing to do with the physical bliss coursing through him. His reply lacked glyphs, but was full of devotion, amazement at his mate, desire and love that he embraced as doggedly as he did his duties. Deep in his processors where he made fundamental sense of his environment, where duty was a joy, a cherished thing that filled him with contentment, Jazz was a duty, the one he relished the most.

There was a flicker of amusement in Jazz's field at his classification, but with it was acceptance and understanding of how much he meant to Prowl.

His spark rubbed against his mate's again and felt itself pulled in a bit deeper. ~I am here. To hold you, and to catch you. Enjoy.~

Prowl nodded and let go of himself, trusting despite his fears. This was Jazz. Jazz was to be trusted. Jazz never hurt him. Gradually the mantra faded into a wordless mental hum of 'Jazz-trust', then settled even further when the merge deepened and new pleasure tore through Prowl's frame and spark.

Joy.

Pure, uncontested joy.

It was a novel sensation to Prowl, and one he embraced as he did all things that Jazz gave him.

It felt good on the emotional level that Prowl didn't deal with well, but he accepted that it was good and welcomed it and its source.

~Love you.~ Jazz whispered, surrendering himself even as he wrapped his mate in everything that was positive and good, and the promise that he was there. He felt, experienced, what that meant to Prowl as the Praxian's spark engulfed and was engulfed by his, the energies mingling and sharing at the most core level until the pleasure and charge was too much and it exploded across them.

Bliss, joy, pleasure- it all spiral out to consume them, knocking both unconscious as their systems were overwhelmed.


End file.
